Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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West. To build a Griefe on: were you not restor'd
West. To all the Duke of Norfolkes Seignories,
West. Your Noble, and right well‑remembred Fathers?
Mow. Mow.
Mow. What thing, in Honor, had my Father lost,
Mow. That need to be reuiu'd, and breath'd in me?
Mow. The King that lou'd him, as the State stood then,
Mow. Was forc'd, perforce compell'd to banish him:
Mow. And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and hee
Mow. Being mounted, and both rowsed in their Seates
Mow. Their neighing Coursers daring of the Spurre,
Mow. Their armed Staues in charge, their Beauers downe,
Mow. Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steele,
Mow. And the lowd Trumpet blowing them together:
Mow. Then, then, when there was nothing could haue stay'd
Mow. My Father from the Breast of Bulling brooke;
Mow. O, when the King did throw his Warder downe,
Mow. (His owne Life hung vpon the staffe hee threw)
Mow. Then threw hee downe himselfe, and all their Liues,
Mow. That by Indictment, and by dint of Sword,